Lackluster
by anne-writes
Summary: Five years after the war, Hermione and Snape unexpectedly cross paths in a small cafe in Diagon Alley. Both broken and falling apart, can they build a whole relationship in a tiny cottage even when no part of themselves is whole?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or it's characters or it's plot. Please enjoy this as a mixture of my ideas and JKR's.

AN: OOPS YOU CAN'T APPARATE WITHOUT A WAND. My bad. I'm not going to change it, though, because it would throw the story off. Besides, it's just a device to move the plot along. Also I guess I should have capitalized apparate in the story. But whatever.

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I paced. I paced and paced and paced, from one place to another and then back again. I didn't talk to anyone, I didn't find a job, I didn't cry after the first year. I just paced and paced, and wandered from one part of my life to another. For weeks, then months, then years, I waited in coffee shops and diners in dreary Muggle London for something to make sense again.

Curled in my ratty blankets and sheets, on my big queen bed in my tiny little cottage far out in the country, far away from anyone and anything who knew who I had been. The cottage was leased to my for practically nothing by the lovely old couple who owned most of this town, and lived in the huge manor at the top of the hill, looking over the village. I paid for it with the overly generous stipend the Ministry has issued me at the end of the war five years before.

I lived at the very end of the lane; nowhere anyone would accidentally wander past my house. I spent much of my time sitting on a huge old wicker armchair I had dragged outside when I first moved in. The flowers had grown around it, and when I sat there in the summers I couldn't see anything but the blooms and color. I hated them for being able to be pruned every year, and still coming back with a vengeance. I wish I remembered what a vengeance could feel like. I remember I had so much anger those years, but when I lost so many people in that battle… I couldn't snap out of it the way everyone else did.

I spent the first summer lying in Ginny's old bed, sobbing. Or staring out the window. Or making tea for Molly and Arthur, since everyone else seemed to have abandoned them. George couldn't bear to be at home. Percy wasn't ever comfortable there again, Ginny had run off with Harry, and Ron was living with Lavender. He said that he couldn't bear to be with someone as emotional as I was, someone unable to move on. It was just Molly, Arthur, and I that summer. But I finally had to leave too; Molly and Arthur began to cope, and it was obvious they needed their space to heal.

So I found a place out in the country. It could have been over in Africa, for all that mattered; I could easily apparate back to visit them. And yet, I felt I had expended so much effort trying to protect England, my England, that I needed to remain here. And I wanted to at least consider myself to be somewhat near the few people I had left in the world.

After months of solitude, with only the occasional letter from Molly or book from Arthur to appear on my windowsill, I was obviously shocked when I wandered into a small coffee shop in Diagon Alley to see none other than the back of a head of long, lank black hair that could only belong to my former professor.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer in 1st chapter.

I stopped dead in my tracks. I hadn't seen anyone I knew in so long, and had only come to Diagon Alley on a whim, to pick up potions ingredients I was badly in need of for my experiments, that the idea of him startled me to my core.

I cautiously approached his booth, stopping once I could see his face. He noticed the movement in his peripheral vision and turned sharply. When he noticed it was me, he stiffened visibly.

"Miss Granger," he said by way of greeting, very flatly.

"Professor," I responded.

"You may sit," he said, turning back to his cup of coffee.

I sank into the cushioned booth where he had obviously been slumped for quite some time. There was an empty pitcher of cream next to his obviously cold coffee, and both a newspaper and book were lying discarded on the table. He toyed with the cup, swirling the milky liquid around.

I also noticed his appearance. He was gaunt and his face drawn, his hair longer and even less clean than it had appeared in school. His clothing was nowhere near as pristine as it had been, instead faded and buttoned incorrectly. His tie hung hardly tied around his neck, and his lips were dry and cracked. Essentially, he looked like the tall and dark-haired version of myself.

"How have you kept?" I inquired, my voice cracking.

He let out a dry chuckle. "Well enough."

"Where have you been living?" I asked, with good intentions.

"Nowhere," he said again, even more wry, "I have nothing to my name. And no one will hire a man with scars all over his neck and this… thing across my forearm for the world to see," he declared as he jerked up the sleeve of his robe to show his faded Dark Mark. "I have nowhere to go."

"But surely everyone knows the truth by now-" I began

"No. They don't care." he cut me off, looking out the window.

"Have you truly nowhere to live?" I questioned.

"I've been staying at Spinner's End; I promise, the last place on earth I would like to reside. It reeks of my family." he scoffed, still staring out at the bustling street outside.

I sat quiet.

"And yourself?" he queried, turning back to me.

"A… A small place in a hamlet near the border of Wales. The town is called Rockshire." I stumbled over my words.

"Lovely. I shall have to visit sometime," he said, beginning to turn away again.

"Wait-" I said, almost desperately. I hadn't spoken to anyone in so long, I had forgotten what it was to need someone. Even Snape.

He slowly turned back to me, his dark eyes searching mine. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"C-Call me Hermione" I stuttered. "And you… could stay with me. I have my house and while it's nothing at all, it's peaceful. You deserve some peace, I think, after all this time. We both do. And lord knows I could use a friend…" I trailed off.

Snape looked at me warily, saying nothing. I rambled on, embarrassed.

"It's nothing, I mean, if you don't want to. But I have rosebushes, and there's no wizards, and no one will know what your Mark is, and there's a village fair every spring, and I have a wicker chair in my garden and it's as if you are the only one in the world except for the birds and the occasional lizard-"

"Yes." he said definitively, standing up. I stood up too, reflexively. My coat was still clutched in my arms and I looked up at him, unsure if I should have blurted any of that out.

"I have a small potions lab as well," I said, to break the awkward tension that hung in the air.

"May I look into your mind to see the location?" he asked gruffly, obviously unused to asking.

"Um, yes, let me just-" I began, thinking of my cottage, but he whispered "Legilimens" before I had finished thinking of it. I felt him in my head, where along with a vision of my cottage there were also all my feelings of loneliness and hopelessness swirling around, since I had insufficient time to banish them from the forefront of my mind.

He blinked as he withdrew, looking at me with slightly less apprehension in his cold eyes.

"Fine. I will arrive tomorrow. I trust…" he hesitated, and slightly deflated, he continued with "I trust you know that I cannot pay you any rent."

"I know," I said quietly.

"But I do not take well to charity. I will find some way to repay you for this." he said, unmanned and defensive.

"I know that as well."

"So… I will see you tomorrow. At noon." he said, looking aside. I sensed he was ready to change his mind, so I quickly bid him good day and strode quickly from the shop. I disapparated as soon as I stepped into the street.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer in 1st chapter.

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Arriving back at my cottage, with it's leaking thatched roof and broken fence, I felt a slight sense of embarrassment. I could not simply repair them with magic, since I didn't want the town to ask any questions. In addition, I had lost my will to perform spells after the war. I had seen what magic could do to destroy; I had lost so many people that I held so close to my soul. My parents, Dumbledore, Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Sirius… the list went on and on. I tried not to cast any spells, my wand sat dusty in a kitchen drawer. I made potions and read book after book about magic, but felt uneasy whenever I cast.

So my house would remain dilapidated for Snape's arrival. I didn't care.

I opened the front door and went to the tiny spare room off the dining room, currently filled with my overflowing boxes of, what else, books. I dragged box after box out into the bare living room, stacking them beside the long window seat upholstered in worn blue fabric that once must have been blue toile that took up most of the front wall of the house, except for the door.

I surveyed the now empty room. There was a thin twin bed that remained, it's bare mattress sagging in the center. There was an armoire, as well as lace curtains in the cracked window. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust.

I returned to the kitchen to retrieve cleaning supplies. I actually loved cleaning; I put on an old record I had of slow, sad music, and set about cleaning the room. When I opened the armoire, I found a beautiful blue vase with dried flowers inside. Throwing the dead flowers outside, I filled the vase with water and picked fresh roses and tulips from the garden outside the window. I set it on the windowsill, and taking one last look around the room, closed the door decisively. I made a cup of tea and a plate of toast and eggs, dug up some old linens from a back cupboard, dressed the bed, and retreated to my room for the night.


	4. Chapter 4

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I woke up to the sound of hard rain on the roof. Glancing at my clock, I swore slightly under my breath before pulling on my socks and running a hand feebly through my hair. Then, a sharp knock sounded at the door. It was precisely 11:30 in the morning, and he had arrived.

Pulling open the door, he ran his eyes up and down my nightgown-clad form disapprovingly before walking past me into the house. He shook his soaked hair but did not remove his coat.

"I have realized" he began "that this is unnecessary and very pointless. You have no need for a roommate in a house this small, and I have a perfectly adequate place to live. I do not appreciate charity, as I mentioned yesterday, and this is completely-"

I interrupted him. "Please." I said, looking at him. "I need someone here. I need someone to make tea for and to talk to about books. I realize we don't know each other, but you are miserable at your parents' home. I know my place is small, and I am sure a large step down from what you are used to, but I would really appreciate it if you could just stay here for a little."

He was silent.

"Please." I said, very quietly. He looked me in the eyes for the first time since he had walked in the door, and there was such a need in them, I knew his protests were false. He simply needed to think that I was the one who needed him, not vice versa.

"Very well." he said definitively. "My bags are outside-" he coughed. "After the attack, I am still… I could use a hand."

I nodded, and followed him outside. Two small bags sat next to a large, heavy looking trunk. He pulled out his wand and levitated the trunk into the air. I shivered and picked up the suitcases by hand. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, but continued inside to get out of the drenching rain.

"Your bedroom, it's off to the right, through that door" I said behind him. He nodded, and opening the door with his wand-free left hand, moved the trunk inside and set it down. I placed the carpet bags carefully next to it, and turned back to him. He was looking around the room, his face open.

"It's not much." I said softly, of the whitewashed walls and threadbare rug covering the dark wooden planks of the floor. The ceiling paint was peeling, and cracked and water stained from the leaks in the roof.

He turned back to me, and I became acutely aware of how the pouring rain had turned my demure white cotton nightgown into something infinitely more revealing, how my partially wet hair hung limply around my ruddy face, how I was all ribs from not eating well, how my goosebump covered arms couldn't completely cover my chest.

"I'll… I'll just get dressed, then" I stammered, bolting from the room. I heard him chuckle as I left, and I smiled slightly despite myself. It was nice to have someone nearby for the first time in years.


	5. Chapter 5

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I emerged some time later, dry and more appropriately attired in a baggy red V-neck sweater over a faded grey summer dress. My hair, frizzing out like mad due to the rain and the dampness that pervaded the cottage, was pulled back into a bun at the nape of my neck, but wisps were already escaping and curling around my face. My bedroom opened straight into the living room that lay at the center of the house. The cottage had no electricity, so I used the dark central room for a makeshift potions lab, while I read in the bright dining room or my bedroom in the back of the house. There were wicker chairs on the porch, as well as my armchair in the garden, so I rarely needed anywhere else to curl up. In the winter, I spent most of my time on the windowsill in the dining room.

Snape was poking around my potions setup, a bemused look on his face. He looked up at me.

"You really don't use any magic here?" he inquired. I shook my head.

"Intriguing. I am interested in the setup of this heating system… how does it work?"

"It's a gas stove… a Muggle creation to heat food, but I've found it works very well for potions. In fact, the heat is very even across the whole cauldron." I replied.

"Interesting." He straightened. "I find your home very… warm. It is nothing like where I have been for the past years. I… appreciate very much your opening of your home to me."

I still stood by my door, eyeing him. His eyes were downcast, and he seemed to be avoiding eye contact. I realized that the past years must have been as hard, if not harder, for him than they had been for me.

"Of course." I replied quietly. Eager to break the silent tension that hung in the air, I quickly added, "Shall I put on some tea? And you should change out of your cloak; you'll catch a chill." I walked past him and into the kitchen. I heard him remain still, before returning to the spare room- I mean, his room- presumably to change. I sighed, settled the kettle on the kitchen stovetop, lit the burner with a box of damp matches, and pulled out mugs and tealeaves.

"Chamomile?" I heard his deep voice from near the doorway to the dining room before I had noticed that he had entered. I nodded, looking up. He had changed into a loose black cardigan and faded black trousers. He was standing in his stockinged feet, and I hadn't realized how thin he was until I noticed his dark silhouette against the rainy landscape through the large front window. As he looked around the kitchen, I took the opportunity to really take in his appearance for the first time. He was thin, thinner than I, and his skin was a dull shade of grayish pink. His lips were chapped and his stubble was more than a little overgrown. The crewneck of his sweater bagged around his thin neck revealing protruding collarbones and thick, ropy scars from Nagini's bite. His wrists were equally thin, his sweater sleeves too short, and one bony toe stuck out from his black socks. He was obviously in bad need of a warm bath and a bar of soap, and his lank hair needed cutting. I resolved to get him back on his feet; I badly needed someone to mother a little bit.

I finished preparing the tea, and handed him his burning cup. He seemed not to notice the heat, and took a large gulp with no reaction to the scalding liquid. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he seemed somewhat more at ease.

We both leaned against the counter for a few minutes, contemplating the silence between us as well as the loud splatter of rain on the windows. When I had finished my cup, and Snape had finished his second, I left the kitchen to retrieve a threadbare towel from the linen cupboard. Returning to the kitchen, I handed it to him.

"The bathroom is through that door beside my room- take as long as you like. And I'll prepare dinner, and we can read, and I have an idea about brewing a new type of Rejuvenating-"

"Thank you, Hermione." he interrupted, avoiding my eyes.

"Oh… Um. You're welcome, Professor." I replied awkwardly.

He looked down at his feet, his thin white fingers holding the towel tightly.

"You may call me Severus."


	6. Chapter 6

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I prepared dinner later that night, a small pot of pasta with a thick tomato meat sauce my grandmother had taught me as a child. Along with a bowl of fresh goat cheese and thick, crusty bread that I had found at the market, we had a hugely satisfying meal. Severus ate as if he had never seen food before, and when I looked at him quizzically over my mug of delicious, cheap red wine that Severus had bought that morning, he looked up guiltily.

"I, um, haven't had such a good meal in some time. Thank you for making it."

I laughed. "You're welcome," I giggled. It was so strange to see my Potions professor hunched over a bowl of spaghetti, red sauce on his cheek, thanking me in a very non-Snapelike manner. He glared at me, and turned back to his meal.

We spent the rest of the evening, him lying gracefully but angularly on the window seat, me sprawled on the floor, reading books and commenting to one another when we found something of interest. While Snape's strength lay in potions, he knew a lot about antidotes, and we bickered over ideas to strengthen the effectiveness of medical potions. Late at night, after exclaiming over a particularly enlightening passage I had found and receiving no response, I turned to see him, one leg hanging off the bench, snoring softly. I smiled to myself. His face softened in sleep, his brow unfurled, and his entire being seemed to let go of that tense energy that pervaded his very being. He looked thin, and gaunt, and far from attractive, with his scars and parchment skin, angles everywhere, hunched and old and with long hair and cracked fingernails. But there was something so fragile about him as he slept, something so gentle, like a moth you find on the ground with a broken wing. It's not pretty, but it's broken, and even though you can't fix it you want nothing more than to do so.

I don't know how long I sat there just looking at him, stretched and thin and wretched. But my eyes watered slightly, and I quickly stood, tucked a blanket around his shoulders, before walking back to my room.


	7. Chapter 7

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I awoke the next morning to late, summery afternoon sunshine. I don't know why I had slept so late, except for the fact that I had stayed up late, crying exhaustive tears that had been pent up inside for so long. I had been exhausted when I was done, and had curled into a ball before drifting into a restless sleep.

I heard clanking in the house, so I stood and dressed quickly in a soft long-sleeved dress. Opening my door, I was presented with the sight of a disheveled Snape muttering to himself over a cauldron of something thick and bubbling. He glanced up at me before returning to his work. I stepped around the laboratory, heading for the kitchen to make a pot of tea, only to find one had been left out for me under some sort of charm to keep it warm. Glancing back over my shoulder, I smiled slightly to myself before wandering outside to sit in my wicker chair and think about roses.

Weeks passed. We lived in awkward comfort, having some bad days when we bickered beyond belief, Severus mocking my age and inexperience. I would retort with something inappropriately personal, or just inappropriate, and he would get a strangled look on his face and stomp off to his room, or the village bookstore he had discovered, or apparate to somewhere else entirely. He would always return, often late, carrying a bottle of cheap wine and an apology. Or I would apologize, and we would awkwardly laugh about it, and retreat to our books. Even if we were in the same room, there was something so safe about sitting behind a book and not thinking about the strangeness between us.

And gradually I stopped accidentally calling him Professor, except when I was angry. And he stopped "removing points from Gryffindor." And we became more comfortable. And it felt like home.

And one night we were sitting on the wicker sofa on the porch, looking out at the village. And I may have shifted left, or he shifted right, and then I was leaning on him with all my weight, and then I was curled in his lap, our books discarded. And the weight of my pain on my shoulders, and the beautiful town, and the stars, and his thin arms wrapped around me, and I cried. I cried for so long that I soaked his shirt, and I fell asleep with his lips against my hair.

And when I awoke, I was in my bed, tucked in so tightly I could hardly move. And there was a plate of toast and a cup of tea on the floor next to my bed.

So when I stood, walked out into the house, and didn't see him, I got nervous. I walked straight to his room, and saw the door was ajar. And his room was empty.


	8. Chapter 8

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I stood still, hand on his doorknob. My mouth agape, I just stared at the bed, the empty armoire with the door left open. The missing suitcases.

Did I imagine last night? Did I imagine those weeks?

I didn't think so. But I wasn't sure, so I just curled up in that empty twin bed and slept.


	9. Chapter 9

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I guess what I learned that day is that life goes on. And we can't predict who will enter our lives and who won't. Also I learned that it's impossible to get red wine stains out of wood floors when you smash the bottles someone left behind after they left you.

But I didn't start pacing again. I started running away. Here, and there, but I couldn't bear that cottage anymore. I packed my suitcase, and went to Egypt. And India. And America, Brazil, and Panama. I finally put all that money from the Ministry to good use. When I was tired of running away, when I was tan and sun-speckled from months spent in those warm countries, I went back to London. I got a little one-bedroom flat in the center of the city, where I would always be able to hear other people. It seemed that, after only being happy alone, I couldn't bear that thought anymore. I wanted to be surrounded by people, even if they were strangers. I left my wand in the cottage.

And still, I felt hollow. It was as if those awkward dozen weeks spent with Severus in that little hovel were a bright sunspot on my melancholy.

So imagine my surprise when, walking nostalgically into that same café in Diagon Alley, a bag full of heavy books on my arm, I saw the back of that same dark-haired head sitting in that same booth. And instead of going over to say hello, the shell-shocked me stupidly dropped my sack of books.

Severus jumped up and spun toward the loud noise, and seeing me, stood perfectly still, wand half drawn. I covered my mouth with my hands, grabbed my books, and ran into the alley and disapparated.

I felt like I couldn't breathe.


	10. Chapter 10

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I wound up in the alley behind my flat in London, breathing heavily and with my bag of books weighing down my arm. I sat down, leaning my head against the dirty wall behind me, letting my shoulders sag down and my spine unclench. I had spent so much time running away, I hadn't ever come to terms with what any of those weeks, or that night, meant.

I shook my head, my eyes tearing up, and picked up my bag and walked up to my flat. And I didn't cry.

Weeks went by. I stayed in my flat, ate tea and toast and Indian takeout. I gained back some of the weight I had lost over the years. It was summer again, and as the sun shone slightly brighter over dreary London, I caught myself dreaming of my wicker chair in the rosebushes, of my big queen bed and my little potions lab. I missed that window seat with the blue fabric. I missed my little village. I wanted to be home.

I thought it over for another week. It took me days before I could leave, because one minute I would pack and then the next I was putting everything back in the cupboards. But one sunny Monday morning, when the building was quiet because everyone was either on vacations or at work, I packed everything at once, left the key in the landlord's mailbox along with the last month of rent, and disapparated.


	11. Chapter 11

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Standing outside my cottage, that had been rundown when I had left, and was now positively falling apart, I felt safe and home again. Something slightly warm started to bubble in my stomach. I couldn't remember why I had left, all those events a year ago had faded from my memory as if whisked away. A thick layer of grime lay over the whole house, and the vines had almost consumed my armchair in the garden. Dropping my bags on the front steps, I ran over to my chair, curled up in the itchy leaves, and closed my eyes. I let the sunlight play over my face, warming my skin, and I finally felt better.

After a long time, I stood up, stretched and brushed the dirt off myself, and brought my bags inside. Suddenly exhausted, I dropped into my bed and went to sleep.

I awoke late the next morning, to the brilliant summer sun shining in my window. I didn't bother getting dressed, just hoped that there was still drinkable tea left in the kitchen. As I walked through the dining room turned laboratory, I saw a cauldron bubbling. Suddenly apprehensive, and regretting not looking around the house before I fell asleep, I walked very quietly to the doorway to the kitchen. A tall, dark-haired man stood at the old-fashioned stove, cracking an egg into a pot of water.

"Severus?" I said, confused.

He spun around like lightning, knocking the carton of eggs off the counter in the process.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, looking at me, then down at the eggs. "You scared the shit out of me."

I smiled uncomfortably. "Sorry…"

We eyed each other cautiously for a few minutes, neither of us saying anything. Finally, we both tried to speak at once.

"So-"

"You're-"

We both stopped.

"Go ahead." he said carefully.

"So… You've been staying here?" I asked.

"Yes… I stayed at Spinner's End for a few nights, but when I came back to… to see if you would have me live here again, you had vanished. I thought it wouldn't do any harm if I stayed. I am sorry." he replied, ending it with a rude tone in his voice.

"No, that's fine." I said, not quite politely. He turned, and leaving the eggs on the floor and the pot on the stove, slammed the door to his room.

I sighed and began to clean up the mess he had made. Then I ate the egg and toast he had made for himself.


	12. Chapter 12

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"You stupid prat!" I yelled across the dinner table, shoving my hair out of my face with frustrated fingers.

"You are a wretched little girl! Who are you kidding, playing house in this crap little hovel in the country? You need to learn how to grow up!" he yelled back, banging his hand down on the table.

"I am NOT a little girl! And which of us is avoiding things again?" I dropped my voice to an angry, mocking whisper. "You're the one who can't even live in his own house."

He stood, staring at me, before bending over the table towards me.

"At least I'm not throwing my life away," he said coldly, turning and storming outside. I heard the sharp -crack- as he disapparated, going god-knows-where.

It had been a few weeks since I had come back. Although a year had passed, there was still something weird hanging in the air, so we didn't talk much and spent a lot of our time alone. I still prepared dinner some nights, but he didn't bring wine, and the meal was tense and short.

But we didn't usually fight. We treated one another with a formal, cordial courtesy, and generally managed to avoid each other well enough. I could feel how much he wanted to leave some nights, it thrummed in the air like a not-so-secret secret. But we both knew he had nowhere to go. He had finally sold Spinner's End, he told me, just after he had moved in that first summer. Because he had thought he had found somewhere he could be comfortable. And as he had said before, no one would hire him, so he had no other options.

That was the source of this argument. He had seen the check the Ministry sent to me every month, an absurd amount of money. He asked what I had been doing with the money, and I told him that most of the checks were stashed in a kitchen drawer. And he started to yell.

It made sense, now that I was feeling calmer. He had grown up with nothing, with less than nothing, and for all of his adult life had had nothing as well. He had spent his life living in the same school he attended as a child, the school he hated, being looked down upon by everyone both before and after the war. He had done so much more for our side than Harry had done, and certainly more than myself. So when he saw how much the Ministry was handing everyone but him for their efforts, while he had to cram up inside a little rundown cottage with his Muggleborn former student, unable to even pay rent, it made sense that his patience had snapped.

I sighed. I was tired, and everything was overwhelming lately. Although a chill had begun to pervade the late August air, I took a blanket and a torch and my copy of "Hogwarts, A History" out to my garden chair.


	13. Chapter 13

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Severus returned several hours later, quite a few drinks deep. His anger had turned into apathy, and he was thinking murderous thoughts about the Ministry as he walked slowly up the path. Rubbing his neck with his hand, he was walking up the creaky steps when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He turned, and his breath caught in his throat. For someone so used to controlling his emotions, what he saw visibly floored him.

Hermione was curled into that filthy wicker chair she kept out in the bushes. Surrounded entirely by dew-covered roses too heavy for their thin stems, she was wrapped in a knit blanket. Her thick book lay discarded across her legs, and she was fast asleep. The moonlight played across her face and disheveled, bushy hair, making it seem as if she were glowing with a white-blue light.

The strikingness of that scene was too much to bear, and without a second thought he went inside, shutting the door firmly behind himself. And he went to bed.


	14. Chapter 14

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Thanks to those who reviewed!

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We didn't argue after that. We barely spoke, and although there was tension hanging between us that made the air thicker than soup, you would never hear it from the way we spoke to one another. We lived in that house, and we breathed the same air, but we kept entirely to ourselves. As the autumn came, then went, Severus fixed the heater when it broke, and I made dinner sometimes, and we borrowed each other's books, but every movement was underscored by avoiding eye contact and one-word answers. We hadn't known how to deal with that night on the porch, and we certainly didn't know how to deal with that argument.

It was silly, really, because although the subject of our fight was a serious one, it hardly warranted the way we interacted those long months. But neither Severus nor I had ever been good at coping with things… Well, maybe that's something of an understatement. Severus and I were both atrociously handicapped at coping with things, and we had imploded.

And it was icy, and cold, and curled up underneath two blankets in the windowsill, I sat with a book abandoned in my lap, staring out the window, and wondering if this was how it would always be with us.


	15. Chapter 15

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I was folding sweaters and stacking them into a neat pile on my bed, packing for a trip the next day to the Burrow for Christmas. It had been a very long time since I had spent time around people (I had ceased thinking of Severus as such, since we hardly talked anyway) and I was actually excited at the thought at being back under the same roof with all my old friends. I could feel myself beginning to escape the stage of grieving where I just wanted to be hopeless and alone, and I was hopeful about learning something about moving on from all the people I used to know over the holidays. I was careful to pack only my least ratty sweaters and dresses, but still, everything I owned was somewhat faded and had at least one hole.

I thought about going somewhere to buy a new dress or two, but put the thought from my mind. I had never been superficial, and I wasn't going to waste money on a frivolous shopping trip.

I sighed. It was unlikely that anyone would even notice if I looked a little bit nicer than usual. So I resigned myself to folding my sweaters, and I didn't think twice about my clothing again.

Later that day, I was on a rickety stepstool reaching for my luggage on the top of the wardrobe in the living room. I had grabbed a hold of one of the straps and was tugging on it, but it seemed to be caught on something. I gave it one hard jerk, and although it came released, I fell off the stepstool and landed with a loud crash on the hardwood floor.

Severus came quickly out of his room, wand in hand.

"What the hell happened" he snapped, surveying me sprawling across the floor with a carpet bag lying across my chest.

"I was getting my luggage, obviously," I retorted, standing up. Although he was being entirely rude, it was such a relief for us to finally be talking again, not ignoring each other as we had been for months. We had both madly overreacted, and neither of us had been mature or capable of overcoming that. Although my shoulder was throbbing from the fall, I decided it was worth it, if we could finally talk again. Living with that horrid weight over our lives was ridiculous, and it had been going on far too long.

I laughed shortly. "Sorry," I said, brushing my jeans off to avoid looking at him.

Severus looked at me inquisitively, from the bag in my hand, to my face, and back again.

"Where… um… where are you going?" he asked.

"Uh… the Burrow. For Christmas." I replied uncomfortably.

"Oh. I thought… well, have a nice time." he said, suddenly curt, and turned and walked quickly back toward his room.

I paled. It hadn't occurred to me that he expected us to spend Christmas together… I hadn't really thought that he would mind if I left. I actually thought he might prefer it, the way we had been carrying on lately.

"Wait-" I said, before I could stop myself. Severus turned slowly.

"Wait. You can come, if you want. I'm… well, I'm sorry for the way I've been carrying on lately. You're sort of my only friend really, and I shouldn't have… well, been like this." I said quickly, looking down.

He let out a harsh, dry chuckle. "No, it's not been just you."

I smiled hesitantly, looking at him across the room.

"I'll come to Christmas, if you think Molly won't mind."

I shook my head. "No, definitely not. But… maybe let's not tell them we've been living together?" I replied.

Something passed across his face, but he only raised an eyebrow at me, as if to say, "Obviously not."

"When were you planning on leaving?" Severus interjected suddenly, jerking me from my thoughts.

"Oh… Sometime late tomorrow morning. Perhaps 10?"

He nodded, turned on his heel, and walked back to his room.

But he didn't shut the door, for once.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer in the 1st chapter

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The next morning found me sitting on the stoop outside, waiting for Severus to finish casting protection spells over the cottage before we left for the next few days. He was warding against burglars, mice, fire, flood, hurricane, you name it, he warded against it. When he was finally finished, he nodded to me. As I passed through the wards, I felt a tremor of magic run through me. Shaking it off, and with a shiver not entirely due to the cold, I walked to stand next to Snape.

"I have an errand to run before I come to the Burrow. That way we won't be arriving together." He said, looking down the road for anyone who might see us disapparate. But everyone was either away visiting family, or holed up in their houses with a fire and their children.

He turned back to me, and I suddenly noticed how close we were standing. Nodding quickly, I stepped back and with a -crack- I was gone.

I arrived with a jerk in the front yard, and I immediately felt a rush of comfort. I approached the door and knocked softly, before remembering myself and just walking inside anyway.

"Molly?" I called through the kitchen. "Where are you?"

"Oh Hermione dear! I was just making some biscuits! How are you darling?" she gushed over me. But I noticed the slight tremor in her hand.

"I'm well! How are you? And… where is everyone?" I asked, looking around as I realized that the house was rather silent.

"Oh, no one could really make it this year except you. Ron is spending the holiday with Lavender and the children at her parent's house, and Harry and Ginny are off spending the winter abroad. But you came! And I got an owl from Severus last night, inquiring if he were welcome for the holiday. He sounded terribly lonely, the poor man. You know, the war was hardest on him, I think sometimes…" Molly prattled on as she took my bag and put a thick arm around my shoulders. I sagged a little, leaning on her more than I needed to, as she showed me upstairs to Ginny's old room. Once we were upstairs, I hugged her tightly, and almost cried, but kept a hold on myself. She smiled knowingly at me, patted me on the head and headed back downstairs to tend to her biscuits.

I lay back on the sagging bed, and was asleep as soon as I closed my eyes. It felt good to be with someone who loved me so much.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer on the 1st page

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I awoke much later, the world outside the small window pitch-black. I was freezing, and I stood, lit a lamp carefully, and changed into thick slacks, a cable knit sweater, and warm woolen socks. I padded softly downstairs, following the sounds of voices.

I entered the kitchen, surprised to see Arthur and Severus conversing with their heads close, bent over a map of some sort. They both looked up as I walked in, and I offered Arthur a warm smile. He stood and came over to me, wrapping me up in a big hug, his chin on my head. I hugged him warmly as well, before stepping back and smiling.

"Hermione! You look so skinny! Molly, can we have some biscuits here? And some honey and jam, and a cup of tea?" Arthur said as he looked over to Molly, his hands still on my shoulders. I smiled at being taken care of, a foreign feeling. Arthur led me over to the table and sat me down next to Severus, before sitting down himself. He was looking at me expectantly.

"Well, Hermione, Severus, aren't you two going to greet one another? You haven't seen each other in years!" Molly said as she brought me hot tea and biscuits.

"Oh… Hi, Sev-. I mean, Professor."

"Hello, Miss Granger." he replied briskly before turning back to Arthur and their map.

"This, Hermione, is a map of Africa! Severus is just showing me where Harry and Ginny are travelling." Arthur said, leaning toward me over the table as I sipped my tea. Severus looked at me over Arthur's head with a smile in his eyes. He'd never been to Africa a day in his life.

"Oh, you've been to Africa, Professor?" I enquired politely.

"Yes, Miss Granger, many times. I find the weather to be particularly enjoyable in the South" he responded, also rather polite.

"Ah, yes," I said, as Arthur grinned.

And that was how we spent Christmas Eve.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer in 1st chapter

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I woke up the next morning bathed in sunshine that was pouring through the grimy window. I loved being in the Burrow almost as much as I loved being in our cottage.

Wait. Our cottage?

I shook my head, got dressed in a silky dress over woolen tights and a warm sweater. I felt a little silly for bringing my nicest clothes for Molly, Arthur, and Severus, but it's not as though they were all that nice anyway. I pulled warm socks over my tights and went downstairs for breakfast.

When I walked into the kitchen, Severus lowered his newspaper slightly and eyed me from where he was sitting at the kitchen table, a half-eaten sandwich and an empty mug of coffee in front of him.

I smiled slightly, awkwardly, and went to the stove to look for some food. I opened my mouth to ask where Molly and Arthur were, right as Severus said, "Molly and Arthur are in the living room. I am to tell you that we should join them when you have your food."

I nodded without turning around, picked up the plate with the last sandwich on it, and retrieved a mug from the cupboard. I turned to ask Severus to brew some coffee with magic, and I found my face less than three inches from his chest, the full coffeepot in his hand. I looked up into his eyes and accidentally dropped my mug. A corner of my mind heard it shatter as it hit the tiles.

Severus darted his arm out and reached into the cupboard above my head for another, pulling it out slowly and pressing it into my free hand.

My fingers closed around it, but I stood still. He didn't move either, but his gaze dropped down and ran up my body as I stood, pinned against the counter. Setting down the coffeepot, he rested his hands on the ledge on either side of me, leaning imperceptibly closer, and-

"Hermione? We're waiting, honey." Molly called from the living room. Severus swore, turned, and picking up his full mug, and stalked into the living room without a glance over his shoulder.

I shivered, startled by what had just happened, filled my cup, and stepping over the broken ceramic I went into the living room as well.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer in 1st chapter

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I curled up in an overstuffed armchair near the fireplace; the Weasleys were seated on a pink velvet loveseat in the middle, and on the far left side Severus perched on the edge of a dining room chair. There was another armchair, but Severus had instead retrieved one from the dining room. The man was absurd.

I handed Molly the gifts I had bought her, a beautiful pair of new leather shoes and a thick book, embossed book on obscure household spells. "Oh, Hermione! Thank you so much! You are just wonderful!" she gushed, hugging me tightly.

"These are from Arthur and I," she exclaimed, and handed me their gifts before sitting back down. I unwrapped a thick sweater knitted in grey and bright blue, and a beautifully thin chain necklace with a small silver heart as a pendant.

I blushed, went over and hugged her and Arthur tightly, before returning to my armchair. Molly stood and bustled over to the small stack of gifts under the tree, pulling out a small parcel wrapped in newspaper. She handed it to Severus and stood expectantly beside him. He looked awkward as he peeled the newspaper carefully away from what was wrapped inside. He pulled out a black tie embroidered with thin silver pinstripes. He cracked something resembling a smile.

"Thank you, Molly, Arthur." He said, sounding a bit forced and awkward. Molly beamed and hugged him even tighter than she had hugged me. He patted her back awkwardly before extracting himself. He stood and shook Arthur's hand warmly, before returning to his hard wooden chair.

"Hermione, Severus, did you" Molly enquired, but I shook my head rapidly.

"We, ah, didn't know the other was coming. So there was no opportunity…" I said, making eye contact with Severus. Truth be told, I had a thick parcel wrapped in black paper in my luggage, but I wasn't going to embarrass him by having a gift when he didn't. He nodded slightly, and stood.

"Ladies, Arthur, I think I will retire to my room. I will see you at supper."

I excused myself as well, as Molly and Arthur said they were going into London for some shopping and lunch.

As I walked past the twin's old room, I was thinking about whether or not I should give Severus his gift. I didn't want him to think that I meant anything by it. Although… maybe I did. But regardless, I didn't want to startle him. He had made it abundantly clear by leaving that night that he wanted nothing to do with me.

But he came back, something inside my head reminded me.

It didn't matter, I decided, shaking my head to clear those thoughts. What was I doing, wandering around the Burrow and lusting after a teacher. I may as well be thirteen again.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer in 1st chapter

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"Hermione." a deep voice said from behind me. I turned and saw Severus standing, awkward with his hands shoved in his pockets. I looked at him, and noticed that he wasn't as skinny as he had been before. But he still looked haggard, his face old and worn, his hair lank and far too long. His eyes were hooded and deep-set, his overly large nose sticking out in contrast. He was wearing a faded black set of robes, and I could see more than one hole in his hem.

He certainly wasn't the type anyone would normally lust over. But in between his defeated appearance and sarcastic attitude, there was something slightly broken that appealed to me.

"Yes, Severus?" I said, hoping he hadn't noticed my eyes lingering over him.

"I… I have something for you. I found it when I was running errands yesterday, and I thought you would like it."

I looked at him, surprised.

"I obviously expect nothing in return, so don't concern yourself with that" he added uncomfortably.

"No, I have something for you too. It's in my room. Wait there." I said quickly and half ran down the hallway to my room. Grabbing the package, I ran back down the hallway. Severus nodded when I returned, flushed and slightly breathless, and he pushed open the door to his room and walked inside. I hesitated for a moment, but I followed him in, clutching my present in my hands.

Severus picked a large but apparently light box off the floor. It was perfectly wrapped in pale blue wrapping paper with a huge white bow on it. It was at such odds with his persona that I laughed. He glared at me and set it down on one of the two beds.

"The shopgirl wrapped it for me. Insisted it was better than just giving you the box." he explained gruffly.

I nodded. "Much better." He looked at me expectantly.

"Oh, here," I said, fairly shoving the package at him. He unwrapped it with the same meticulousness that he had unwrapped Molly's gift with.

He pulled it out, a thick leather-bound book entitled "The Life of Albus Dumbledore, in Photos." It was a new volume I had found at the bookstore, a compilation of seemingly almost every photo of Albus that existed.

Severus fanned through the pages and his mouth opened slightly. He sat down on the edge of the bed and turned through the pages randomly, his eyes frantically scanning every photo, as if memorizing it before proceeding to the next.

"I thought that since… Well, I know how close you were to him, and I didn't think you had any photos. And many of them are of the Hogwarts staff so you are with him in some…" I explained rapidly, feeling the desire to explain what was making him so apparently uncomfortable.

He stood up, laid the book on the bed reverently, and shook his head as if to clear it.

"Thank you." he muttered. He thrust his present at me, and I took it, holding the large box awkwardly.

"Don't open it until just before dinner. You can leave now," he said, turning back toward the bed.

I hastened back to my room.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer in 1st chapter

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Sitting on my bed, I tossed the package beside the window and took a deep breath. Severus was intolerable, one minute being horrid to me and the next being… well, not entirely horrid. And I didn't know what I was feeling, and he wasn't making it any better, and so a few deep breaths seemed in order.

I eventually pulled out a book I had brought along, and spent the rest of that long, sunny afternoon curled in an armchair in the living room. Finally, long after Molly and Arthur had come home, and the sun had sunk behind the line of trees in the distance, I wandered back into the kitchen. Molly recruited my help preparing Christmas dinner, and I finally excused myself at almost half past seven to hurry and dress.

Walking into my room, I looked at the box on the floor by the window, and remembered that Severus had told me not to open it until just before dinner.

Strange request, I thought to myself, but anyway.

I dressed in an old gown I had from my school days, and pinned up my hair and applied a touch of makeup. When I was done, I turned once again to that box.

Sitting down on my bed with it, I carefully dispensed with the blue paper and bow. A large, sumptuously grey box greeted my curious eyes, embossed with an intricate and expensive-looking gold seal. I was even more puzzled than I had been before. Gently removing the lid, I dug through layers and layers of thin grey tissue paper. A soft, almost velvety material met my fingertips, and I quickly removed the rest of the paper and tossed the box aside.

I was holding in my hands one of the most beautiful dresses I had ever seen. Fashioned from a pale green fabric so soft it felt almost like suede, the modest neckline was accentuated by fluttery cap sleeves of a darker, transparent fabric, and the skirt fell in three long tiers to my knees. It was so simple, and elegant, and I was absurdly startled at the sight of it.

Where had Severus gotten it? And it was far too expensive for someone of Severus' means.

But still, the giddiness at having received such a present, especially from Severus, overwhelmed all my thoughts. With shaking hands, I pulled off my old dress and carefully stepped into the new one. I zipped up the back, and turned toward the mirror, and my breath caught in my throat-

It fit perfectly, gracing my skinny frame and making me seem better proportioned than I truly was. Pulling my old dress over my head had caused curly bit of my hair to pop out from where they were pinned, and they curled down around my face, grazing my shoulders. The woman looking back at me in the mirror was more beautiful, more entrancing, and more elegant than I had ever thought I was.

I was suddenly reminded of feeling similarly back in my fourth year before the Yule Ball; but there was something different. Then, I had spent weeks looking for a dress, hours on my appearance, and now I had just slipped into this persona instantaneously.

Still feeling as thought my feet weren't quite touching the ground, I gathered a sweater in case the dining room was chilly, and fairly floated downstairs to dinner.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer in 1st chapter

Thank you everyone for reviewing!

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Before I even reached the first landing, I was welcomed by the smell of roasted chicken and sweet mashed yams. Mouth watering, I hurried down the remaining steps, almost falling as I accidentally missed the last step. I straightened the dress and walked carefully into the kitchen, where Molly was bustling about finishing up a hot pot of cider and pulling a steaming apple pie from the oven.

After placing my sweater down on my preferred spot at one end of the long table, I went to the cupboards and began laying the table. Molly turned around and smiled at me, but turned quickly back to the pot of cider, which had begun smoking slightly.

"You look wonderful, dear," she said while stirring. I nodded, but her back was to me and I didn't think she saw.

I went to the pantry to get napkins, and when I returned Severus was leaning angularly against the doorframe to the living room, watching the scene in the kitchen. Molly was carefully ladling cider into chipped mugs, and I finished laying the table, conscious of his burning gaze on me as I dragged the chore out. When I finally finished. I glanced up at Severus in the doorway. He raised one slender hand and crooked his finger, gesturing that I should join him, before turning and stepping out into the hallway. I dawdled, putting on my sweater and walking slowly towards the door. Molly glanced up at me as I walked out.

When I stepped into the hallway, he wasn't there. Seeing a door at the end of the hallway slightly ajar, I dragged my feet down the hallway and pushed it open.

Severus was leaning against the desk in the room when I entered, occupying his hands by toying with a half-dissected remote control, one of Arthur's abandoned tinkerings.

"You wore the dress." He stated in a bored tone.

"Did you not want me to?" I said, confused.

"I had no desires one way or the other."

I peered at his downturned face, but couldn't read anything but boredom. His eyes were hidden in the shadow of his face and of the hair that hung down past his eyebrows.

"It's beautiful." I murmured.

He turned the remote control over in hands, and began his inspection of the back.

"The shopgirl said you would like it."

"Do I know her from school?" I asked.

"No. It was a muggle shop in London." He responded uncomfortably.

"Then how did she know I would like it?"

"I… ah. I described you a bit, I suppose."

I stepped closer, and rested my hands on the chair that sat just in front of the desk he leaned upon.

"Why did you buy it for me?"

He looked up sharply. "Why did you buy me that book?" he asked coldly.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer in 1st chapter

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I didn't respond, just frantically scanned his face for any sign of what he was feeling for me.

"How did you describe me? Because this dress is perfect." I almost whispered, gripping the back of the chair tightly.

He slammed the remote down and pushed past me towards the door.

I ran and jumped in front of it and closed it, pressing my body back against the wood. His hand clutched the iron doorknob by my ribcage, and I saw his fingers twitch as they accidentally brushed against my side.

"Move, you wretched child-witch."

"Make me." I said, much more defiant than I felt.

"And it would be that hard? You don't even have your wand on you, and if you did, it's not as if you use it."

My shoulders sagged slightly, but I held my ground.

"Do you really want to know how I described you?" he asked, his voice darkening as he leaned closer to me. I shivered.

"Yes."

"I said you were irresponsible. Immature. Impossible. Overreactive. Whingey. You steep tea too long and burn every piece of toast you've ever made. You're messy, your house is a dust trap, you have no regard for your safety, you invite misfortune and enjoy nothing so much as wallowing in your misery," he hissed in my face.

I stared up at him, my mouth hanging open, appalled at the words he had just spit at me.

He released his death grip on the doorknob and brought his hand toward my face. I was too astonished by his words to even more, still staring into his eyes.

His gaze dropped to my lips, and his middle finger traced the inner curve of my bottom lip.

"I also said other things. Do you want to hear them?" he breathed.

I couldn't move a muscle, but somehow I managed to nod slightly.

A mocking smile crooked the corner of his chapped lips.

"I said you were brilliant. And free. And beautiful and insufferable and you could wear a paper bag and I would still be entranced with every step you took." His hand was sliding along my neck now, and his left hand had found it's way to my ribs.

Severus finally closed the distance between our mouths, pressing his lips into mine almost reverently.

It took me a minute to respond, but suddenly a fire started in my stomach. I slid my hands up from his stomach to his shoulders, before tangling them in his overgrow, greasy hair. He made a sharp noise in the back of his throat, licking his lips and opening my mouth under his. He pressed me into the door, the carved design pressing uncomfortably into my back as he slid his tongue along my lower lip. I moaned something, I think, incoherently, and pushed as hard against him as I could. His slow, burning perusal of my mouth made me feel a need like nothing I'd known before.

I pulled his head back, removing his lips from mine, and ran kisses along his jawbone and down his neck. He groaned, pressing his hands along my sides and pulling me closer.

Suddenly, he jerked away from me and took a large step back. He whipped out his wand, passed it first over me and then himself. I felt my hair tame, the swelling leave my lips, and the dress was straightened and hung properly again. I was still shaking, though, and I couldn't quite catch my breath. Before I knew what was happening, he quickly opened the door.

"We're in your study, Arthur. Just having Hermione explain me the muggle system of organizing books. Completely obnoxious, they're hardly sorted by topic at all, but by author."

"Really?" Arthur exclaimed as he came through the door. "Hermione, you must go over that with me later! But Molly wants us to sit down now, she says that dinner is ready."

Severus nodded, held the door open for Arthur and myself and shut it behind him. He followed closely behind me as I drifted awkwardly down the hall, trying to decide if that had actually just happened or not. I almost thought I felt his hand ghosting at the small of my back as we walked, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer in 1st chapter

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Dinner wasn't as uncomfortable as I had thought it would be. Both Severus and I were very careful to not allow the tension between us to hang in the air, careful not to ruin Molly's Christmas dinner. We laughed at the same jokes, told stories, complimented the dinner. I caught him glancing at me every now and then, but maybe only because I was also glancing.

Dinner seemed to last, simultaneously, five second and five years. It seemed like I had kissed Severus in the study three months ago, with the amount of times I had recapped the scenario in my head. And my cheeks remained flushed throughout dinner.

Finally, Molly stood began to stack the empty plates on the table, but Severus quickly stood and brushed her away.

"Hermione and I will deal with this. You've been very generous to host us here, you should have some time to relax on Christmas."

Molly smiled. "Oh, yes, it would be wonderful to curl up by the fire…"

"Well you and Arthur should do that. We'll tidy up."

Molly and Arthur made their way to the living room with hot cups of tea, and Severus and I were left in the kitchen. I remained sitting awkwardly at the table, while Severus levitated the plates to the sink and set them to washing themselves. He, with a few swishes of his wand, cleaned up the mess from cooking as well, and all too soon he was finished and leaning against the sink, looking at me with those dark eyes.

"What was that?" I whispered, mortified that I had let the question escape my lips. I clapped a hand over my mouth.

His eyes were dark and he didn't stop staring at me, and his fingers fidgeted, fingering the edge of the counter.

He straightened, and walked across the room and through the doorway to the stairs.

I sat there, unsurprised. I knew he was going to walk away from whatever that was, I should never have hoped from anything more. I just kept letting him let me down-

"Are you coming?" he drawled from the stairwell.

I almost smiled, caught myself, and went quickly through the doorway.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer in 1st chapter;

Rated M for a reason.

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I followed him up the winding stairs to the hallway our rooms were off of, and as I rounded the last bend of the crooked steps I was suddenly pushed up against the wall and a hand ran down my body. I wound my arms up around his neck, shifting so my body was curved into his.

Severus bit the inside ridge of my ear softly.

He whispered in that smooth, deep voice "I know what you were thinking about during dinner."

I couldn't breathe, let alone respond, so I grabbed his hair and pulled him back from my ear and towards my mouth. He caught my lower lip between his teeth, and my knees couldn't hold me up anymore. He felt me start to slide down the wall, and he lifted me effortlessly. I wound my legs around his waist, and he hardly let his mouth leave mine, even as he fumbled the door open.

Entering his room, he fairly threw me on the bed, pulled out a wand and cast a multitude of whispered spells at the walls. I felt a tingle run through my abdomen when he cast a contraceptive spell on me, and before I had time to protest he was on the bed with me, pushing the skirt of the dress up so he could skim his hand along the outside of my thigh. I literally thought I was going to die right then, with his lips on my collarbone and his body arched over me.

I wanted to feel his skin, and fumbled with the row of buttons down his black sweater and then the row down his shirt. Finally I had them gone, and I tried to shove the shirt and sweater off his shoulders but just got his arms tangled in them. He collapsed on the bed, arms stuck behind him due to the clothing. I reached over and freed him, taking the opportunity to run my hands up his back and over his chest. He had no muscles, just scars and paleness and bones. But his chest and shoulders were naturally wide, and I couldn't even process the fact that he wasn't properly attractive.

He was just Severus, just this broken man who had been in my life for so long, and had wound up back in it by chance. He noticed me staring at his torso, and pulled back slightly. I crawled over him and straddled him, my knees on either side of his hips, letting my weight settle. He sat up, so I was sitting in his lap, and found the zipper on the back of my dress, pulling it down quickly as his lips found mine again, biting and licking. I clutched his face in my hands, trying to get closer than possible, trying to merge my body into his.

I hadn't done anything like this since I was with Ron, and it had been a long time, maybe forever, since I had felt anything like this with someone else.

Severus finally succeeded with the zipper and shoved it down my shoulders. I struggled to free my arms, and impatient, Severus ripped the fragile sleeves and shoved it to my waist. The fact hardly registered.

I was skinny enough now that I rarely bothered to wear a bra under my layers of dresses and sweaters. He pulled back from my lips, and his gaze dropped to my breasts, and I could see the emotions flicker across his face clearer than I ever had before. I could tell that he thought I was beautiful.

With a shove, he was lying flat again, but as soon as I laid my body over his, he flipped me onto my back. He pulled my dress and my underwear off and threw them onto the floor, and I helped him get rid of his pants and socks and boxers. He pushed me back again and held himself over me, his mouth devouring mine, his hand running down my body until it reached that place between my legs. I arched myself up to meet him, and he hissed sharply, biting my lip and pressing my thighs open with his knee. My legs fell apart, and I wound my feet behind his knees.

"Hermione-" he said sharply.

"Mm?" I said, dropping my head back and smiling coyly at him as I pressed myself forward. He groaned.

"Hermione, are you sure that you want-"

I didn't dignify the question with an answer, instead impatiently grabbing his neck and pulling his face back down to meet mine.


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer in 1st chapter

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I awoke the next morning, sunshine blinding my face. I pulled the blankets tighter around me and huddled back down into my bed.

Suddenly I remembered what had happened and sat straight up in bed, holding the blankets to my chest. I was in the twins' old room, where Severus was staying, but he was nowhere to be seen. The door was shut.

I laid back in bed, tears threatening.

The door creaked open, then was quietly closed again. I sat up, sure I was going to have to explain myself to Molly, but it was Severus, with two mugs.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his nervous voice betraying his calm exterior.

"Oh. Nothing. You startled me." I said, dropping my eyes.

He walked over slowly and sat carefully on the edge of the bed, handing me one of the cups of coffee.

"Well. Um. Good morning then," he said.

I nodded, peering at him over the rim of my mug as I sipped my coffee.

His eyes remained trained steadily on the ground, feet planted firmly on the ground, his long middle finger tapping the rim of his coffee mug.

"Well-"

"So-"

We both tried to speak at once. He grimaced slightly, took a gulp of his coffee, and gestured for me to go first.

"Well, I think I should go back to my room. Because I don't want anyone to notice that I was um… Here, last night."

He nodded slowly, and looked up into my eyes. I leaned forward slightly, and he removed his hand from his mug and pressed it into the bedspread on the other side of me, and he leaned forward to me.

Our lips brushed against each other, dry and chaste, for less than a second when I felt something burning spill onto my stomach. I jerked back suddenly, and looked down at where Severus' other hand had abandoned his mug for my hip, leaving the liquid to spill into my lap.

"Shit!" I exclaimed, pushing myself back against the headboard. Severus stared at my lap for a moment, before snatching his cup and storming out of the room.

I gaped after him, confused about why he was so furious, while toweling off my stomach with the quilt. I stood and, pulling on my underwear and torn dress, ran quickly down the hallway to my room.


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer in 1st chapter

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We had planned to leave at noon that day, so after I showered I dressed and packed my things. I pulled on thick tights under a ragged pair of jeans, a soft cotton dress, and two cardigans that I buttoned all the way up. I washed the last smudges of makeup from my face, and left my hair down.

I walked downstairs with my bag, skirting the door to Severus' room as I passed it. My wet hair was cold on my neck, and as I descended the stairs I felt an aching soreness pervading my body.

Severus was seated at the kitchen table with a large plate of oatmeal and bacon. Molly motioned for me to sit, and began preparing me a large plate of food as well.

I perched on the edge of the seat furthest from Severus, and picked at a splintered bit of wood from the table. I felt his gaze on me, but when I looked up he was bent back over the book he had been reading.

Molly bustled over with my plate and a large mug of tea. She patted my shoulder absently, before wandering off through the doorway that connected to the living room.

"That was a mistake," Severus said in a low tone.

I looked up at him. He was leaned toward me over the table, a worried look in his deep-set eyes.

"It was?" I whispered back, stricken. I must have read too much into his actions, the way he was around me.

"Of course. I thought it obvious. I was tired, and not thinking clearly, and you were so… well, I'm sorry. It won't happen again," he said, looking down and twirling his mug.

My jaw was hanging open. I couldn't believe that he was saying that to me. I had thought… well, it didn't matter. I snapped my jaw shut and stood.

"Good. Well, then it won't happen again." I said smartly before storming off to find Molly and Arthur to say goodbye.


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer in 1st chapter

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Back in the cottage, we were back to our oddly polite interactions and time spent alone. I often thought I imagined things, like him leaning closer than he needed to over my shoulder as we read together, or his hand brushing mine for a split second longer than necessary when I passed him the salt. He began doing things around the house, repairing the leaky roof and broken gate, cleaning the windows so the wintery sun shone in brighter, casting charms on the appliances to make them resist breakage. Some of the people from the town stopped by to compliment me on the changes, and I introduced them uncomfortably to Severus. He was awkward when he met them, but almost endearingly so, like a small boy meeting the principal of his grade school.

Months passed, and before we knew it, it was spring again and the air was damp with dew and thick with pollen.

One warm night, I wandered out to my rose chair again. The roses had grown around it, as if it were a trellis. I fashioned a fabric cushion for the seat so I could sit without being stuck with the thorns, and sitting there was even more beautiful than it had been when I first dragged the chair out, all those years ago.

I heard the front door open, and then shut, and I looked up and saw Severus coming across the lawn to me. I laid my book on the chair, and waited for him to reach me.

There was something almost ethereal in the air, in the way the moonlight was reflecting off the damp grass, and in the warmth and the damp air that clung to us.

When he was at my chair, his approach somehow lasting ten seconds and ten years at the same time, he wrapped his hands around the wicker on either side of me, and bent low over me. I leant back in the chair, and his face hovered over mine, searching my eyes. I reached up and wrapped my hands around his ribs, feeling the way he was still too skinny for his large frame, feeling his heartbeat under his sweater.

He dropped his head, letting his shoulders curl around me, so I was completely enclosed between him and my chair and the roses. His lips brushed up against mine, tasting like tea and the cold chicken salad we had had for dinner. His breath was warm on my face, and I opened my lips under his. He pressed his mouth forward, simultaneously slaking and satisfying my need to have him close to me.

He shifted his hands on the arms of the chair, but suddenly jumped back and swore loudly, inspecting his hand.

I almost giggled, but caught myself. I didn't want to so much as move, lest he realize that he was making the same mistake again.

That thought made me suddenly feel cold. Why was he doing this?

Content that his hand was not permanently damaged, Severus looked down at me, confused. I had wrapped my arms around my knees, and was staring at him, all the feelings of that morning rushing back to me.

"Hermione?" he said hoarsely.

"Why are you doing this to me again?" I whispered, staring at him. "You said it was a mistake."

He stared at me, openly confused, before running a hand through his dirty hair.

"Hermione, that's not what I meant-"

"Well, I don't see how there could be much confusion! You were wretched the next day. And I don't want to deal with this again." I shouted, standing and running into the house and through to my bedroom.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer in 1st chapterx

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I fell into my bed, and was about to cry when I heard the front door slam and, an instant later, my door jerk open.

"Hermione, I really didn't mean-"

"Shut up!" I yelled at him. "You don't have to jerk me around just to get laid! You act like you're so hurt and sad but really, you're just a mean old man."

He stared at me, at loss for words. He started to say something, but stopped. He stormed out, slamming my door behind him.

The tears began running down my face in earnest. I was tired, and confused, and sick of being toyed around with. I wished he had never been in that café that first day, never been my professor, never even been born.

Suddenly my door jerked open again. I sat up, and snatched a book off the floor and hurled it at his shadow in the doorway. It missed and hit the wall with a loud -thunk-.

"Hermione!" he yelled.

"What." I said quietly, mockingly.

"Can you shut up for two minutes? Can I please explain this to you?" he yelled at me.

I looked at him, my face still wet with tears, and gestured sarcastically for him to go on.

He sat carefully on the edge of me bed. I stood and crossed the room and stood in front of the window.

"Hermione-" his voice cracked. He cleared his throat, and stared out the window past me as he continued.

"Hermione, that morning, what I said… of course I was wretched, I'm always wretched. And I'm mean and angry and old. I thought those things didn't bother you."

"They didn't." I snapped.

I suddenly how horribly uncomfortable he was as he sat there. He glanced up at me, as if about to snap back with some witty retort, but seemed to catch himself. With a frustrated sigh, he went on.

"I meant that burning you was a mistake, not that the previous night was. I was embarrassed, and you looked so beautiful that morning, and I find that I am rarely adept at explaining myself to you."

I looked at him, a small spark in my stomach. I also felt like a prize idiot.

He was silent for a moment, tapping his fingers angrily.

"Nor am I adept at feeling these emotions. Especially not for you. You… you're so young, and beautiful, and I'm too old for you, and I am easily angered and frustrated, and I'm so poor, and I feel like I'm a lecherous old man peering at schoolgirls, but all I can ever think about when you're near me is brushing your hair behind your ear and kissing you. And I think I'd have fallen apart if you hadn't let me come here. I would have been consumed with myself. But you took care of me, and you're so open about your sadness, and… I never want to leave you. That day I ran away, the night before, I had… I had realized how much I wanted you. And I didn't want to stay with you since I couldn't touch you; I couldn't ruin your small happiness with a filthy and unwelcome advance from an old bat."

I made a small noise, as if to contradict him. He held up his hand for me to be silent, still staring out the window.

"So I left. But when I was alone, I wanted you even worse. I realized that I needed any part of you in my life that I could have, even if just as roommates. But when I came back to be with you, you were gone… and I thought… I thought that you had run away because you didn't want me. And I stayed in the house because being somewhere that was such a part of you was better than being alone."

I rubbed my face.

"And when I saw you from the window outside just now, I don't… I didn't think. I just wanted to be near you." And he let out a hard, self-deprecating laugh. "I wanted to wrap myself in you, and I wanted your beauty and perfection to rub off on me."

I went to sit next to him.

My hand was shaking, but I managed rest it on his knee. His rough hands covered mine, holding it too tightly.

"Christmas was the best thing I can remember happening to me. I was so caught up in everything, and I hate showing my emotions to anyone; and I don't think that will ever change. So I tried not to let you see, and I was so embarrassed that I spilled on you, and I thought I ruined it. And I didn't know that you misunderstood me. I thought…" he continued, turning his head to look down at me beside him.

"You thought I regretted it." I said softly, feeling torn apart and bared.

"You were so distant after that. You've barely spoken to me since then," he said quietly, but not without a slight tinge of resentment in his voice.

I almost cried again at that. "I'm so sorry. I'm an idiot. I never meant to hurt you, I would never. I just assumed… I assumed that you didn't want me," I said, leaning closer, desperate that he believe me.

"Oh god, girl, I want you every moment you're near me and even more when I'm alone. I can't breathe sometimes. But I… I don't know that we should do this. Everyone will think less of you for being with me."

Despite his words, he clutched my hand even harder, shaking. I shifted closer, and he started as if he thought I was going to leave. I ran my hand behind his neck and pulled his mouth to mine.

I closed my eyes, and let the closeness and warmth wash over me. Our kiss tasted like sweat, and regret, and sadness, but nonetheless we fell back onto the bed. His kisses covered my cheeks, and when his lips returned to mine I could taste the salt from my tears.

He pulled back, running a hand down my neck and arm.

"And I think I love you. And I doubt I'll say it often. And I'll yell at you and slam doors, and you'll be a whingey brat. Your friends will hate you for being with me. And one day you'll regret being with someone so much older than yourself, even if it seems novel now. And I'm going to make you start using your wand again. And I hate your potions stove. And we're going to fight all the time.

"But I'll bring you wine for dinner, and I'll buy you a ring, and I'll finish fixing the house. And I'll try to make you happy, when I can," he whispered.

I wound my arms around his neck and pulled him back to me.

His lips pressed against mine, more demanding than before, and I tangled my fingers into his hair and pulled him closer. He groaned slightly, and I wanted to smile, but couldn't. The anger, hurt, confusion, sadness and shock were all still so close to the surface for both of us. But they were muted by the perfection of knowing that we had each other.


	30. New story

Started a new story. Sorry for saying I wasn't planning on it just a few days ago, false alarm I guess.


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